Vacation Day #3 was so routinely smooth that it was in itself scary. But, nothing major happened other than excellent visitation with relatives we see only once a year or so. In fact, the day was so calm that I had time for just some random thoughts.
First random thought, I am so honored and humbled that people from so many different places take the time to read my blog. I have readers here in the states, and I am glad, and I have readers in Europe including Spain, England, the Ukraine, Russia, and Portugal. Occasionally I have readers from Mexico, South America, and even Viet Nam. Thank you all, and I hope you all will continue to check in on me every now and again.
Viet Nam, no longer North or South, just one Viet Nam. I sometimes wonder how the people of Viet Nam can not only be civil to Americans, but even welcome us and treat us with respect. I am not for one minute dishonoring or defaming our soldiers who served there, and who served honorably in a terrible situation. I am proud of our veterans, my uncle included. I was a young child when my uncle enlisted. At that time I had no real concept of what was going on, except there was a war and the United States must win. Of course the United States did not win. But as an adult I learned many things about the Viet Nam war that reflected badly against the United States, meaning those in authority. And, I learned things did not reflect very well on the Vietnamese authorities as well. But most of all, I learned that many soldiers from both nations died needlessly there, millions of civilians died needlessly, and the people ultimately responsible for all this death and destruction mostly got away scot free, except the unlucky South Vietnamese officers caught after the fall. And now I know that many people in Viet Nam want to let the wounds heal, and even want to have normal and friendly relations with the United States. People outside the political drama can find common ground and can respect each other regardless of how the various "governments" may relate to their counterpart "governments."
Roger Moore has departed this earthly life. He was my very favorite James Bond. Sorry ladies, I know many of you were hung up on Sean Connery, but Roger Moore was always so smooth and cultured, and delivered those smart one-liners better than Sean Connery or any of the other "Bonds."
There have been other good Bonds, such as Pierce Brosnin, but none of them, in my humble opinion, ever matched the suave and debonair Roger Moore. Mr. Moore lived to the good age of 89, and I suppose this may have been because he was so happy in his work, and with his legacy as James Bond, the spy's spy.
After three days I have not found any "collectible" seashells. I am a little discouraged because my time by the sea is soon coming to an end. I feel like the sea (as does the earth) has a spirit of its own that may or may not be a separate consciousness, but either way, I always ask the sea to provide a beautiful shell to me, just one on a visit. Whether it does or not, I always soak up as much of the sea "spirit" as I can during these brief visits. I have such a fascination with the beach and the shore, life at the surfside, and the uniqueness of the inhabitants of the seashore. The people of Surfside Beach, for instance, offer quite a study of unique and even strange characters. Our former next door neighbor, Pat, was a perfect example of human "shore life." He was a well-known character on the Island of Velasco. Pat invited himself over to our side of the duplex one day, and a friendship was born, however brief. Pat made a living by making and selling surfboards, giving surfing lessons, and occasionally doing odd jobs. He was too busy to hold a full-time job. This man craved a simple and free life. He was very intelligent even though he was not a "financial success." Pat had in fact been a national surfing champion in Hawaii in the 1970's. As I said, Pat was a strange character but he was fascinating. He had trained several grackles, those annoying blackbirds, which are actually fairly smart themselves, as birds go. The grackles would land on his porch and walk into his always open front door. They would do little tricks and even share food with him at the table. I watched this spectacle myself in awe. I had no idea these birds could be trained, and Pat had never had training as a bird trainer. When we returned to Surfside a year after giving up our beach house, Pat had moved on as well. We will probably never see him again, but he was definitely part of the surf scene for many years. And, maybe I will find that special shell tomorrow when I once again return to Surfside Beach, the Village.
Walking along the seashore is very satisfying, and so is walking along the fields once plowed and harvested by my grandfather, or once covered with his dairy cattle. The land there also has a spirit of its own, and like at the seashore, I try to absorb that spirit or that essence every time I can. The land still bears the mark of work done by my grandfather, my uncle, and my father, as well as the somewhat faded remains of those who went even before my grandfather. And occasionally the remnants of Native America are revealed to us in rare and spiritual moments. This land, as was most of the land on this continent, was occupied by another people before we came, and probably another people before that. Who really knows how many "befores" there were on this beautiful land? But I count it as a great privilege to walk in the steps of my ancestors and these unknown Native Americans as well. I know that this land is not really mine to keep, but it is mine to hold and care for until someone else takes my place with this responsibility and gift.
Life is sometimes happy, sometimes sad, sometimes chaotic, sometimes even terrible and tragic. As a song once said,
"I've looked at life from both sides now,
from up and down, and still somehow,
it's life's illusions I recall,
I really don't know life....at all..."
And life goes on.
May God Bless you all
First random thought, I am so honored and humbled that people from so many different places take the time to read my blog. I have readers here in the states, and I am glad, and I have readers in Europe including Spain, England, the Ukraine, Russia, and Portugal. Occasionally I have readers from Mexico, South America, and even Viet Nam. Thank you all, and I hope you all will continue to check in on me every now and again.
Viet Nam, no longer North or South, just one Viet Nam. I sometimes wonder how the people of Viet Nam can not only be civil to Americans, but even welcome us and treat us with respect. I am not for one minute dishonoring or defaming our soldiers who served there, and who served honorably in a terrible situation. I am proud of our veterans, my uncle included. I was a young child when my uncle enlisted. At that time I had no real concept of what was going on, except there was a war and the United States must win. Of course the United States did not win. But as an adult I learned many things about the Viet Nam war that reflected badly against the United States, meaning those in authority. And, I learned things did not reflect very well on the Vietnamese authorities as well. But most of all, I learned that many soldiers from both nations died needlessly there, millions of civilians died needlessly, and the people ultimately responsible for all this death and destruction mostly got away scot free, except the unlucky South Vietnamese officers caught after the fall. And now I know that many people in Viet Nam want to let the wounds heal, and even want to have normal and friendly relations with the United States. People outside the political drama can find common ground and can respect each other regardless of how the various "governments" may relate to their counterpart "governments."
Roger Moore has departed this earthly life. He was my very favorite James Bond. Sorry ladies, I know many of you were hung up on Sean Connery, but Roger Moore was always so smooth and cultured, and delivered those smart one-liners better than Sean Connery or any of the other "Bonds."
There have been other good Bonds, such as Pierce Brosnin, but none of them, in my humble opinion, ever matched the suave and debonair Roger Moore. Mr. Moore lived to the good age of 89, and I suppose this may have been because he was so happy in his work, and with his legacy as James Bond, the spy's spy.
After three days I have not found any "collectible" seashells. I am a little discouraged because my time by the sea is soon coming to an end. I feel like the sea (as does the earth) has a spirit of its own that may or may not be a separate consciousness, but either way, I always ask the sea to provide a beautiful shell to me, just one on a visit. Whether it does or not, I always soak up as much of the sea "spirit" as I can during these brief visits. I have such a fascination with the beach and the shore, life at the surfside, and the uniqueness of the inhabitants of the seashore. The people of Surfside Beach, for instance, offer quite a study of unique and even strange characters. Our former next door neighbor, Pat, was a perfect example of human "shore life." He was a well-known character on the Island of Velasco. Pat invited himself over to our side of the duplex one day, and a friendship was born, however brief. Pat made a living by making and selling surfboards, giving surfing lessons, and occasionally doing odd jobs. He was too busy to hold a full-time job. This man craved a simple and free life. He was very intelligent even though he was not a "financial success." Pat had in fact been a national surfing champion in Hawaii in the 1970's. As I said, Pat was a strange character but he was fascinating. He had trained several grackles, those annoying blackbirds, which are actually fairly smart themselves, as birds go. The grackles would land on his porch and walk into his always open front door. They would do little tricks and even share food with him at the table. I watched this spectacle myself in awe. I had no idea these birds could be trained, and Pat had never had training as a bird trainer. When we returned to Surfside a year after giving up our beach house, Pat had moved on as well. We will probably never see him again, but he was definitely part of the surf scene for many years. And, maybe I will find that special shell tomorrow when I once again return to Surfside Beach, the Village.
Walking along the seashore is very satisfying, and so is walking along the fields once plowed and harvested by my grandfather, or once covered with his dairy cattle. The land there also has a spirit of its own, and like at the seashore, I try to absorb that spirit or that essence every time I can. The land still bears the mark of work done by my grandfather, my uncle, and my father, as well as the somewhat faded remains of those who went even before my grandfather. And occasionally the remnants of Native America are revealed to us in rare and spiritual moments. This land, as was most of the land on this continent, was occupied by another people before we came, and probably another people before that. Who really knows how many "befores" there were on this beautiful land? But I count it as a great privilege to walk in the steps of my ancestors and these unknown Native Americans as well. I know that this land is not really mine to keep, but it is mine to hold and care for until someone else takes my place with this responsibility and gift.
Life is sometimes happy, sometimes sad, sometimes chaotic, sometimes even terrible and tragic. As a song once said,
"I've looked at life from both sides now,
from up and down, and still somehow,
it's life's illusions I recall,
I really don't know life....at all..."
And life goes on.
May God Bless you all
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